I dont need luck

i am waiting for the inevitable forgetting

head to my chest i whisper :

joy, like most animals, has a habit of returning . 

eventually, the elevator door opens and stalls as no one walks off it. 

i’ll see you the next time, when i find you or you find me, it’s sad but i’m almost sure, 

                                   the garbage man has angel wings covered in dirt and filtering the light.

now there are only two cups in front of us, my arms folded under the table and your sword on the table.

somehow feeling lucky even having lost , wanting very badly to go home and at the same time feeling a sharp sense of incongruence.                              

with only a pile of scraps of magazine that make an almost likeness of you, after all these years, ticket in my pocket and jacket on my shoulders, I can’t make it to the boat. terrified by only the abundance of water.